


Ellipsism

by mistysinkat



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [13]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5206865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistysinkat/pseuds/mistysinkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen travels to Tevinter after he senses that something is very wrong with Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ellipsism

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted writing from Tumblr for the word "Ellipsism," which is a sadness that you’ll never be able to know how history will turn out.

The early morning light stretched out across the room, lazy rays of golden light reaching out to warm arms and legs and bodies tangled up together in a drowsy embrace.

“Mmmmmm,” Cullen growled at the too-bright intrusion into their little cocoon, nuzzling deeper into the soft, dark skin at the crook of Dorian’s neck to hide from the light just a little longer. One arm was wound around the man’s waist. The other brought a hand to tangle in the loose waves of ebony, longer now that Dorian had been in Tevinter for a while, but Cullen loved it.

“Mmmmmmm,” he murmured softly as he settled into place, breathing Dorian in and closing his eyes.

Happiness. This was happiness. They’d been apart too long with nothing but the speaking stones to connect them. Cullen had missed this man more than he believed possible. Every day without him had seemed colorless, dull, lonely.

The longer Dorian was away, the more distant the man grew from Cullen, and not just because of the distance or fading memories. Dorian had become oddly withdrawn over time, especially of late. No quips or banter. No real indication of affection. Only agitation and notes of sadness. Cullen was at a loss, worrying for his lover - his friend - from hundreds of miles away. He felt small and helpless.

So, he’d done what he always did. He took action, packing his trunk and making the journey to Dorian’s doorstep, unannounced.

The long months had changed Dorian. He was no less beautiful, but the undeniable markings of stress and exhaustion were there. Frown lines that would have been more at home on the ex-commander’s face ran down and across Dorian’s forehead. Gray eyes that had been so bright were dimmed and rimmed red. His face was just on the wrong side of gaunt.

But he’d fallen into Cullen’s arms as soon as he was convinced the man was actually there. He’d buried his face in the commander’s neck and gripped his cloak like a vice.

And  _cried_.

Just a little, but the wet eyes and hitching voice were proof enough.

“Maker it's… it’s good to see you,” he’d said, regaining composure, a show for his household staff. That shake in his voice told Cullen he was right to have come.

They spent the dark hours of the night rediscovering each other. Tasting. Touching. Breathing. They remembered how  _well_ their bodies fit together, and after, Cullen curled Dorian up in a protective embrace and just held him until the man’s breathing deepened and became regular. Something in the way Dorian had been clinging to him, almost desperately, all night told Cullen that he needed that from him. He’d never deny Dorian anything the man needed, not if he could provide it.

Still, in that long night, they hadn’t spoken about what was haunting Dorian. Cullen had learned long ago that Dorian would open up when he felt the time was right, not before.

Dawn’s light spread, and Cullen felt the man in his arms stirring, felt his hands begin running long lines up and down his back. They stayed that way for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun and enjoying the feeling of each other.

“Do you think any of this is… enough?” Dorian asked in an odd little voice, shaky and thick with sleep.

The time, it seemed, was right.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked, pressing a soft kiss to the crook of Dorian’s neck.

“All of…  _this_. Everything,” Dorian began, voice still wavering, “Maker, I work and I work, but all I get in return is petty infighting. I take one step forward, but the Magisterium knocks me two steps back.”

Dorian took a few shaky breaths.

“And I’m so  _tired_ , Cullen. I can't… I can’t help but think that none of this will make a difference. Tevinter will just keep rolling into the Void blindly, and I’m too small to stop it. I’m just one man in front of a landslide.”

His breath caught in a tiny whimper.

“Will the annals of history remember the Lucerni as a catalyst for change, or will all this be for nothing?”

Cullen curled around Dorian, surrounding him as best he could with warmth, wanting to protect him but not knowing how.

“It’s so  _hard_ ,” Dorian whispered. The sadness, the weariness in his voice broke Cullen’s heart. The warm tears he felt falling against his chest scattered the pieces to the winds.

“Shhhhhh, I’ve got you,” he murmured into that dark hair, big hands stroking Dorian’s back in large circles. “Go ahead. Get it out. Let me take at least this much of your load.”

They stayed that way as the dawn became day, until all of Dorian’s pain and frustration had been released into the calm breeze that rolled into the room through open windows.

“Thank you,” Dorian finally sniffed, voice finally beginning to right itself, “That was… rather silly of me, I suppose.”

“It’s never silly to need help,” Cullen replied, hand tilting Dorian’s face up to meet his, “Let me help. I’ll hold you through any number of breakdowns if it means you won’t stop,” Cullen took a breath before continuing, “I came here to stay. If you’ll have me.”

Dorian pushed away, searching Cullen’s face with wide, gray eyes. Cullen could see the gears in Dorian’s mind spinning, processing what he just said. A slow smile spread under that curled mustache before the wicked glint Cullen knew so well flashed in Dorian’s eyes.

“If I’ll have him, he says!” Dorian’s laugh was clear and unburdened, the first of its kind Cullen had heard in a long while. “Oh, I’ll  _have_ him, alright. In this bed. And on that couch. And on the dining hall table. And wherever else we want,  _whenever_ we want because he  _is_ staying.”

Cullen pulled Dorian back in, kissing him through his smile. He pulled away again, resting their foreheads together.

“You’re a great man, Dorian. Even if history doesn’t remember that, I will,” he paused for a moment, just breathing, “My heart will.”

“Watch out. I might just fall for you with talk like that,” Dorian teased, but his voice was thick and low.

“A man can hope,” Cullen whispered as he leaned back in for another kiss in the perfect light of day.


End file.
